Baby's on fire
by Coronfrim Crelumin
Summary: CHAPTER 5 UP! Brian's dead, or at least everybody believes he is. Curt, Mandy and the rest are all headed into a bit of a decadent spiral, sinking fast and without much of a future to speak of... possible slash or femmeslash later on. flames will be mocke
1. Baby's on fire

**Baby's on fire**

Disclaimer: I don't own Curt, Mandy, Trevor, Cecil or any of the other original characters who may appear in later chapters. I also do not own the Sombrero club. The lyrics belong to the Venus in Furs and Good Charlotte.

(some lyrics are out of order because…well, they just worked better that way – sorry to rabid GC fans)

Rated for language, drug abuse and possible sexual content in later chapters.

A/N: I realize that it is sacrilegious to combine the glory of Velvet Goldmine with Good Charlotte but it just seemed to fit so perfectly! Flame me if you wish. I probably deserve burning at the stake for such heresy.

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"**If you'll be my flotsam**

**I could be half the man I used to**

**They said you were hot stuff**

**And that's what baby's been reduced to"**

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Spend your lazy, endless, crazy days inside my head

Mandy greeted him with a bright smile, her best polished façade, but it didn't disguise the red rims around her eyes. The only thing around _his _eyes was black eyeliner and the purple stains of a month without sleep. Writing, play, getting drunk and getting laid. The constant activity was beginning to tell. When Mandy broke out of his hug, it was to glare at him reproachfully. "You smell of perfume."

"Mandy, I'm a blinking Fairy boy. I'm not allowed to wear perfume?"

She didn't seem convinced. "Don't give me that crap. Who was she?"

"He." He corrected her, without missing a beat. The sharp response caught Mandy off balance and made her pause. It wasn't that she was surprised, merely that she had not expected any answer at all.

"He, then."

Curt took a deep breath and prepared himself for the abuse that was sure to follow his answer. Of course, he could have simply refused to tell her but the strange power that she held over him would not allow it.

"Trevor."

Mandy's expression mutated from surprise, to disbelief, to disgust in less than ten seconds. "I can't believe you! Trevor? Brian's guitarist, Trevor?"

He nodded.

"How could you do that? You knew how Brian felt about him!"

Yeah, he did. Curt shrugged. "Well, he's not really in a position to do much about it now, is he?"

The spite in her voice was almost more than Curt's aching head could stand. "You didn't even give Brian a single thought, did you? How could you have? You were too busy screwing him over! Do you have no respect?"

_**You're so selfish; you're not the only one who thinks he's dead**_

There was no use in trying to explain. He was probably the only one in the World who knew how Brian had really felt about Trevor, who could tell the reality from the publicity crap. The superstar had thought he was an annoying little prick, not to mention a crap shag. On one of those points, at least, Curt rather disagreed. The guy was absorbing and that was really all Curt needed right now. Heroin and alcohol didn't seem enough any more, not on their own, not to replace Brian…

He got up and left. She looked after him, new tears forming in her eyes. She could not lose him too, not when he was her only link to the star she could not forget.

_**I'm paid to smile; now, I'm on trial for what you think I said**_

Out in the street, cold air hit him forcibly in the face. Far from refreshing, though, it sent an empty chill through his bones leaving them aching for warmth. Curt had never been warm alone. The stage stunts, surrounded by leaping flames, had all been a part of his need for a heat that would not come from inside. Brian had been hot…like blue fire, Curt remembered. Each time Curt had touched him, the burn had seared a little deeper until every inch of Curt, body and soul, was wrapped in a blazing azure pyre.

Now, he was cold. And dead, stale smoke choked him from within.

_**When I fall down would you come around and pick me right up off the ground?**_

Curt headed home, through the grey London streets, drawing conservative stares and badly concealed whispers. He couldn't remember why he'd chosen London over New York but here he was, and he wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. He kicked the door to his flat open and slung his jacket on the floor. No one could understand why a megastar would live in a broken down dump like this. He didn't care. Almost everything he wanted or needed was here. Luxury couldn't give him the things that were missing.

He dropped down on the floor and took a small plastic bag from his pocket. Pulling the rest of his stuff towards him, he lit the candle and tapped a little of the powder into a metal spoon. He watched it melt far too slowly as he dangled it in the dancing flame.

Lifeless eyes flared with ecstasy as the drug hit his bloodstream. God, the stuff was pure as snow.

_**I never said that everything would be ok. And I never said that we would live to see another day.**_

A/N: -huggles Curt- the lyrics will not be good charlotte forever I promise although they probably will be next chapter, I'm not done with this song yet. Read and review people! People? Ok…there's no one there…damn.

Cookies and important roles in my universal take-over up for grabs to reviewers! –bribes shamelessly-


	2. Hot ones

Hot Ones

**disclaimer**: i own not these characters...sadly. The lyrics belong to the bands Shudder to Think (Hot ones) and Him (Sweet Pandemonium).

There is some strong language in this chapter – be warned.

A/N: Thank you so much **Alexandria Queen of Dreams** for this fic's first review. (and for corrected some mis-information in one of my other fics)

Now, on with the mayhem...

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"**Well you're the grand wild**

**But Darling, I'm a mess I've got to**

**humanize my wrinkled form**

**But the boys are not impressed"**

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Today tomorrow seems so far away and the wait in vain

Curt's head felt like it was exploding. He had known at the time that that big a dose would leave him feeling like he'd been dragged through Hell and back but he hadn't cared. Now, it only sharpened the pain that had recently become a part of him. No, not pain… heartache. Much as he hated to admit it, as much as it made him want slit his own throat, Curt had tasted heartache. Why didn't someone just shoot him? It was pathetic. Heartache was what teenage emo bands drew on when they needed the next carbon copy song. It was an emotion entirely foreign to Curt Wild, The Curt Wild…completely and utterly alien. Alien. The arbitrary word might as well have been a razor blade. Could he not stop thinking about Maxwell-fucking-Demon for one lousy minute of one God-awful, stinking day? Apparently not.

_**The blinding light of love unchained in yesterday's grave**_

An icy Autumn wind swept around Mandy's shoulders, slicing across the slate grey water to throw itself in her face, in her eyes. It made them sting, made them water. She had known it was over, of course. Brian had ceased to be even remotely hers when he met Curt but…somewhere below the make-up and the innuendo, he was still the Brian she had married, fallen head over heels in love with… And now he was dead. He would never be hers again. Never be Curt's, even. He was gone…and he had taken their broken souls with him, shooting of into the stars and leaving their owners with gaping wounds in their hearts that bled and bled and bled.

**_The truth that could set souls free is buried within sweet pandemonium_**

He lay on his back on the floor, staring up at the net of cracks that was his ceiling. Something his head said it was breakfast time, he was hungry. His stomach disagreed. It was an interesting discourse between the two, to say the least. It made him nauseous. Morning's like this weren't new to him. There'd been many….

(flashback)

"Curt?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you love me?"

"Yeah."

"Will you get me something to eat?"

"No."

"Cruelty is not one of your more attractive features, Darling."

"I can't move or the universe will come crashing down around us."

"Talk about creating a sensation."

"Mmmm."

(end flashback)

He shivered as he remembered the sensation of thin icy fingers tracing their way up his bare spine. Brian had been Brian on those mornings, not Maxwell, not a superstar but still a star, the prettiest star. He was elegance walking arm in arm with a lie.

_**In this fragile dream, ashamed of the shattered remains**_

It wasn't a good place to be, she knew it. Going back to the old studios was probably her worst idea that day but she needed to be somewhere where everyone was as devastated as she was.

The place was quiet, hideously so. The music, cries of delight and sound or running or dancing feet seemed to have left a roughly cut void in their place, through which fierce winds howled.

Inside, everything was just as disheveled. The clouds of glitter, on which they had walked through shining dreams, was gaudy and looked like the residue from a cheap hooker's dressing room. "Rock and roll is a prostitute; it should be tarted up, performed." The words drifted spectrally through her memory tugging tauntingly at her thoughts.

_**Drained by the anger and grief**_

He would have to get up sometime, he supposed. Or would he? Why couldn't he just stay there forever; he had no reason no to, nowhere to be, no one to see, not much of a future to speak of… What did he have left now? Jack had wanted to collaborate on some material and there were always the newspaper articles. "How has Brian Slade's death affected you? Do you have anything to say to the fans?" No, he had no fucking message for the fucking fans. The love of his life had just been shot and he wanted to be left alone. Was that such a crime?

_**Fazed by the anger and greed**_

She wandered through a few empty rooms, finally catching the sound of subdued voices. In what had been Jerry's office, she found a couple of the Maxwell Demon entourage, sitting around on dust-sheets and abandoned chairs. Most of the offices' finery had been sold after… The others looked up when they heard her come in and one or two or them waved half-heartedly. She couldn't remember names, or had never known them, but she spotted Shannon in the circle. She wandered vaguely over, thinking that these were not really the best people to help her forget Brian. The girl smiled but offered no other greeting. Some one held out a packet of cigarettes, saying, "So what are going to do now?" It wasn't a question she wanted think about answering but she made some attempt.

"Oh, I don't know. I might go back to the Sombrero Club I suppose. I still own it, technically." A couple of faces smiled nostalgically, veterans of the old club, it would seem. "What about you?"

The group dipped even lower at her question. They would go back to showcasing their one and only talent, publicity. Some of them would go on to become the idolized groupies of the next big star. Most of them would go back to the café's and supermarkets, returning to the dregs of the world.

Eventually she got up and left. The depressing atmosphere of "What now?" wasn't one she could deal with. She was almost outside by the time she heard footsteps coming after her. She turned and found Shannon behind her. The girl looked unsure of what to say.

"Uh, so…" Mandy looked at her expectantly. "How are you?" Mandy gave her a blank stare and started to walk away but Shannon caught her arm. "I… didn't mean… Well. I was hoping that when this all sort of blows over you and I could maybe…I don't know."

Mandy stared quizzically at her. "When what all blows over?" Shannon gave her a look that suggested Mandy was being rather dense.

"Well, this. This whole fake shooting thing."

"What?"

"What?"

"What did you just say about the shooting?"

"When it all stops being headline news and everyone gets bored with it maybe…"

"You said it was fake."

"Did I? Oh, well I can't imagine why I…" Mandy grabbed her arm, squeezing it until the skin went white, staring coldly into her face.

"Do you know something, Shannon?" The girl stayed silent, trying to twist her arm out of Mandy's grip. At last she freed herself and took a step backwards. Mandy had no idea why she was suddenly so willing to believe it, to even dare to hope but… "Shannon, is Brian alive?"

The girl looked reluctant to say anything but at last Mandy's furious glare got the better of her. "Yes." For a moment she seemed content to leave it at that but then she added spitefully, "But I don't know how that really helps you. He didn't care enough to let you in on it, you can hardly think he'd want you back. Or Curt for that matter. He's bored, thoroughly sick and tired of the lot of you."

Mandy's hand collided fiercely with her cheek, leaving it cheek and stinging. Shannon put a hand up to her face, narrowing her eyes at Mandy. "Why he'd ever want someone like you I can't imagine." With that she stormed past, into the street, and left Mandy staring into the empty space like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

_**The secret cries for a release**_

He ignored the banging on his door with all his might, blocked it from his mind. He had decided he wasn't getting up for anyone or anything. It went on and on until he thought it would drive him crazy, then he heard a voice shouting in between the knocks. "Curt. Curt! Get out here! It's important!" He ignored it for a few moments longer but… "Curt! I need to talk to you…" And as an afterthought, "It's about Brian!"

Mandy sat on the end of Curt's kitchen table because there was no other furniture in the flat, except the old mattress that he seldom used. He stared at her incredulously, a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. "Mandy, she's insane. She's just looking for something to throw at you."

Mandy sighed. She hadn't really expected him to believe her but… "Why are you so unwilling to believe the whole thing was a hoax? It's not as though Brian was above extreme stunts." /You should know, you _were _one of them/ she stopped herself from adding. Nevertheless, he seemed to know what she was thinking.

"Why would Brian go that far? His career was…" Mandy had had the same thoughts earlier and had already begun to speculate over the answer.

"I don't think it really had anything to do with his career. You and he had just broken up, hadn't you?" Curt seemed fazed by the idea. He stared out of the grimy window for a minute before replying.

"No way. That made no difference. The guy was made of stone." He lied. "The whole thing's complete nonsense. Brian's dead. Some maniac's idiotic obsession won't change that."

_**The truth that could set souls free**_

_**Is buried within sweet pandemonium **_

_**Concealed by disbelief**_

_**The riddle stays veiled in sweet pandemonium**_

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A/N: so, ok, a bit of an anti-climactic chapter but it will get better, I promise! Read and review, if only to tell me how bad it was. –embarrassed grin- 


	3. Needle in the camel's eye

Needle in the Camel's Eye

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters recognizable from the motion picture, Velvet Goldmine. The lyrics in this chapter belong to Brian Eno and The Used.

A/N: I'm so so so soooo sorry you guys have had to wait so long for this chapter. I keep being silly and starting new stories. But don't worry! I've not forgotten my old ones.

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Why ask why?

_For by the by and by_

_All mysteries are just more_

_Needles in the camel's eye_

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So deep that it didn't even bleed

Mandy had never done it before; it was a habit for adolescent manic depressives, not for Mandy Slade. She looked down at the mess she had made of her arm and a tear slid down her cheek. Rinsing blood from the razor, she reflected sadly that not one of the angry, red gashes could distract her from pain that touched deeper than flesh and blood.

_**Off guard, red-handed**_

Brian alive? He couldn't allow himself to hope it. It was ridiculous. All the same, his heart leapt whenever the thought crept unbidden through his brain. He plunged another needle into his arm and waited for the world to go away. It seemed reluctant this time.

_**Now I'm far from lonely**_

There was a persistent hum from the tables. Although it was only two o'clock in the afternoon, a small crowd had already trickled into the club, like dust settling back into familiar cracks after being swept away. A few offered her commiserations; most did not. They had their own concerns. The remnants of Glitter's aristocracy had come to drink their sorrows away in the birthplace of their age. Everything started at the Sombrero…

_**Asleep, I still see you lying next to me**_

He shaken about roughly in a tide of Heroin-fuelled dreams which swirled him around in their dark under-tows until he wished he would just drown. He was in the park, walking in the sunshine. He felt, rather than saw, the presence walking along beside him. He felt fingers, entwined with his, swinging back and forth by his hip. Seamlessly, the path before him became the black wood of a concert stage. The warm fingers were gone from his, curled instead around a microphone. A pair of intense blue eyes was locked with his across a few centimeters of hot space. His attention was torn between their inescapable gaze and the acid sensation of his fingers pounding against sharp steel strings. This scene, too, started to change. The solid weight of his guitar against his body became the softer and, arguably, far more pleasant pressure of Brian's warm body draped across his chest.

_**I need something else, will someone please just give me**_

She smiled distractedly as the night's last performer pushed through the velvet curtains off the stage. He leant his guitar against the wall and stripped the feather boa from his shoulders. He let it fall to the floor, taking with it a fresh shower of glitter, mingling with dirt and debris. The iconic haunt of stars had become an ancient and crumbling ruin. The dreams that had taken flight there were now no more than footnotes in a work of disheveled fiction. The place was a drug; kept for too long, its potency had faded. The fix was no longer what it once was. The performer gave her a tired wink and left, guitar on his shoulder, shedding sparkles into the musty shadows. The phone was held between cheek and shoulder, slipping every so often, being caught and replaced.

"I have to speak with mister Divine."

"Yes, I know he's very busy but…"

"Please, it's urgent. It regards Brian Slade."

"Mandy. Mandy Slade."

"No, really."

"I'm not a journalist, I just…"

"Hello?"

She slammed the phone down on the insistent dial tone and dropped her head into her hands.

_**Knock me out and let me go back to sleep**_

The dream was over and had left cold, unfeeling consciousness staring him blankly in the face. He couldn't shut his eyes, couldn't move. The world had hardened around him; walls of hard reality had set around every inch of his body.

_**I can laugh all I want, inside I still am empty**_

She looked up slowly when a vague shadow fell across her desk. When the figure drew closer, she tried a weak smile but tears filed her eyes. The visitor came around the desk and knelt down beside her. She crumpled pathetically into his black-clad arms, forcing a smile against his shoulder.

"I saw you on stage tonight. Quite the London party-girl, you were." He got a humorless laugh for his troubles and she sniffed back more tears.

"Thank you, Jack."

_**I guess, I remember every glance you shot me**_

He couldn't recall how he had got there or when the low's oppressive heaviness had lifted enough to allow him to get to his feet. All he knew was he was standing in a damp alley-way in East London at midnight.

They had been on their way back from some party, he forgot exactly where. They had been walking with a kind f unsteady swagger, occasionally stumbling drunkenly into each other. He couldn't be sure exactly where the transition had come but suddenly he was pressing Brian back against the alley wall, hands locked in the man's hair, leaning in to him as close as he could get, tongue thrust deep between those pretty, painted lips. He trailed aching fingers over the stretch of bricks, memorizing the pattern of crevices in their surface, just as he had done before. He stopped stock still, as he heard the slow measured tread of boots behind him.

_**I squeezed so hard I stopped your heart from beating**_

"I won't believe he's not coming back, Jack. I won't. He'd never forgive me for actually believing something."

_**So deep that it didn't even bleed**_

_**So deep that I didn't even scream**_

"I didn't expect to find you here. I must confess, I thought at the time that you were rather to far out-of-it to even remember this place. Evidently, I…" Rather than finish, he cleared his throat, as though trying to change the subject. No, he never would admit when he was wrong. Curt turned and looked at him. He wasn't a ghost, but flesh and blood was no description for one so fine. There was only one word that would do, choked out through drugs and tears…

"Brian?"

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A/N: Read and review, minskies. Cookies with edible glitter for those who spotted the subtle Queen reference! 


	4. The Whole Shebang

**The Whole Shebang**

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters Brian, Mandy, Curt or, in fact, most of them. Stardust's a bit of an interesting one… I believe I really have to give Mr. David Bowie the credit here. The lyrics of this chapter belong, respectively, to G.L. Philips and the fabulous David Bowie.

A/N: I am soooooooooooo happy with the response I've got for this fic so far. I'm not altogether sure how far I'm going with it but rest assured, I'm not giving up on it anytime soon. (Prize for the first person to spot the (slightly adapted) Oscar Wilde quotation)

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Kick up your heels and paint your face

**Wave goodbye to yesteryear**

**We can swing in outer space**

**Or from the chandeliers**

**Though sometimes it breaks my heart, I hide my tears**

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Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth

A chilly breeze washed around them, pulling at loose strands of Mandy's hair. She shivered and pulled her thin jacket tighter around her but Jack seemed unbothered by the icy weather. His mind, if his unfocused eyes were any guide, was on far and distant things. The streets were relatively quiet for Central London, but then it was only six o'clock. The entire city would be one giant, roaring haze of noise and traffic fumes within a few hours.

_**You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette**_

He had seated himself on a small flight of concrete steps and was staring up through the buildings to the grey morning sky. He heard his joints click as he stretched. Then his gaze returned to the figure that stood across from him. Brian was leaning against the opposite wall, looking at Curt as if waiting for some reaction. He had been waiting for some time and had begun to wonder if Curt had heard him. He was on the verge of repeating himself when…

"How, the bloody hell, do you think we've all been, Brian? What did you expect? Did you think we'd all help play up your act, Brian? We haven't. The press hasn't got more than a "No comment" out of one of us." The look of disappointment that crossed Brian's face redoubled the anger that was boiling inside Curt.

"We thought you were dead, you fucking asshole! You never stopped to consider that people actually cared about you, did you? No, of course you didn't. Oh, but wait, you naturally remember to let Shannon in on the little joke didn't you…"

_**The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers and you forget**_

They arrived in silence back at the end of the road and Jack stopped. He gave Mandy a weak smile as she turned to face him. "Try not to think about him, Dear. I know, as well as any, that our darling Mister Slade was quite the sensation. But he was never worth dwelling on. Beauty, while it is the highest of virtues, can not help but diminish. Mourn for Ophelia if you like. Put ashes on your head because Cordelia was strangled. Cry out against Heaven because the daughter of Brabantio died. But shed no more tears for Brian Slade; he was less real than any of them." With that, he leant forward to place a soft kiss on her cheek and broke away, disappearing around the corner into the dismal London morning.

_**You're a rock 'n' roll suicide**_

"I wasn't trying to kill myself! I only wanted Maxwell dead. I had to kill him Curt." Brian's voice took on a note of pleading. "Curt, he was destroying me!" His porcelain face was wet with tears but Curt took no notice. All they proved was that Brian had lost none of his talent for acting.

"Well, I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, Love, but Maxwell's still alive and kicking. Take a look in one of your mirrors sometime and you might catch him, if you still have a reflection that is…"

_**You walk past the café but you don't eat when you've lived too long **_

After watching Jack's departure, Mandy kept walking. She past the Club but her eyes flickered over it. Being cooped up down there would be more than she could stand. She didn't know where she was going but that didn't matter. She would find it if she just kept walking…

_**Chev brakes are snarling as you stumble across the road**_

Curt pushed himself to his feet and began to stalk towards the mouth of the alley. Dimly, he heard Brian ask where he was going. He didn't stop but shouted back over his shoulder. "Jesus, Brian, you were an asshole when you were alive. Dead, you're a fucking nightmare! I can't fucking handle this anymore!" He raised a middle finger to the cars that honked angrily at him as he stepped straight out into the bust London road.

_**But day brakes instead so you hurry home**_

He responded wearily to the knocking on his door, lacking the mental stamina to ignore it. Mandy, looking rather the worse for her lack of sleep, stood outside. He sighed and stepped out of her way, wondering if he shouldn't just ice the girl her own bloody key. It would save so much time and energy.

"Curt, Darling, what happened?" He assumed she referred to his dead expression and the shadows under his eyes and didn't feel up to explaining.

"I, uh… didn't have a very restful night." He said vaguely.

"No. I was talking about your arm!" He had forgotten. At least the long cut on his arm was easier to explain.

"Oh, that. I got hit by a car. Serves me right for playing in traffic, I guess."

She steered him into the kitchen and forced him to perch on the edge of the table while she looked for something to clean the cut.

_**Don't let the sun blast you shadow**_

"Where were you? I thought you were going to put in an appearance at the Club." She looked up at his grim face, as she attempted to tie up his bleeding arm with a reasonably clean dishcloth.

"I… there was somewhere I had to go first and… I met someone." Mandy tried to look disapproving but couldn't keep the pity out of her expression.

"Curt, I know that self-control isn't exactly your personal forte but, I promise you, endless one-night stands won't replace…"

"It was Brian."

She didn't need to speak. The expression she wore was a mask of shock and suspicion.

"Yeah, he's back. Well, he never really left, I guess."

_**So natural – religiously unkind**_

Mandy looked, and felt, shell-shocked. So, it was true? She had hoped it, begged the powers-that-be to make it so, but…it was true?

"And… he came to find you?"

Her voice confused him. He had seen the flash of joy in her face when she began to really believe it; that had been predictable. But her voice was something else…annoyed? Bitter?

"Yes…" He answered slowly, frowning at her. "As much of a bastard as ever. You didn't miss much." He might have seen…was that the sparkle of tears at the corner of her eyes?

_**Oh. No, Love! You're not alone!**_

She stood up hurriedly and stared with avid attention out of the kitchen window. Long years knew that there was nothing so interesting out there. Curt slid off the table and went to her. Seeing her shaking with minute sobs, he slipped his undamaged arm around her shoulders but she shrugged it away and hastily dried her eyes.

"I've got to be getting back to the Club. Will you be joining us tonight? I suppose you'll be rather busy now that Brian's back. Do feel free to bring him with you, won't you, Love?" Without waiting for a reply, she extracted herself from the flat and left Curt staring at the closed door. He vaguely thought he should mop up the blood that had begun to drip down his arm again but did not want to move.

_**You're watching yourself but you're too unfair**_

The streets had warmed up a little but it was already clear that Winter was well on its way. She jogged down the stairs from the street and slumped behind her desk. Now she really allowed herself to cry. The empty club was haunted by her wailing cries and her shoulders rocking, released from her compulsive self-control.

She didn't hear the swift, light footsteps on the stairs but she rubbed a sleeve conscientiously across her face and repaired her smile as there was a rap at the open door and a silhouette appeared in the rectangle of light.

"Hey."

"Hello… you were the guy playing last night, weren't you? I'm awfully sorry, Darling, but I can't seem to recall your…"

"Just call me Stardust." The man said, flashing a bright, but somehow distant, smile. He swung around the door frame and stood before her. In spite of herself, Mandy found herself running an appreciative eye over the long, black hair, the dark eyes with their wide sweeps of purple eye shadow. One hand rested on his hip, fingers playing with the belt loops on his jeans, the other, holding a cigarette, hung at his side.

"Stardust… Well, what can I do for you, Darling?"

The man raised a prefect eyebrow and put his cigarette to his lips. When he had expelled the smooth stream of smoke, he answered with an amused grin. "Well, now, what a question…

**_You've got your head all tangled up but if I could only make you care_**

Curt tried to tell whoever was outside, through his teeth, that he would only be a minute. He was engaged in the complicated task of bandaging his arm using one hand and his mouth. After nearly taking his eye out with the scissors, he decided he might as well ask Mandy for help. He dropped the scissors and rather bloody bandage on the table and went to the door. He pulled it open to find, not Mandy standing on the landing, but…

"Oh, it's you."

"Hello, Curt."

They stared at each other, a silence heavier than concrete hovering between them.

"I wasn't sure I'd find you here. Thought you might've, y'know, moved on."

"Nah." Grudgingly, he shifted aside and let Brian slip in past him, wondering what he'd done to deserve today.

_**Oh, no, Love! You're not alone!**_

"I actually came to ask if you had time for me to play here again."

"Oh, I'm sure we can fit you in, Darling." Mandy's smile brightened to almost its old self. This, of course had nothing whatsoever to do with the horizontal position that she and Stardust were then occupying on her desk, everyday items such as papers cast wantonly to the floor.

_**No matter what or who you've been **_

_**No matter when or where you've seen**_

"There. Perfection."

Curt inspected Brian's work and was forced to admit that it was better than he could've done on his own.

"So, now that you're no longer bleeding to death…" Curt rolled his eyes. "Could I ask you something?"

Curt sighed; he had a good idea of what was coming next and wasn't sure he had strength enough to answer it. Oh well… "I guess so."

"I…would you… D'you think…"

"No." Brian's face fell. A star, unused to rejection, at least on so personal a scale, was caught off guard by such an adamant refusal.

"No?"

"You are an artificial, manipulative bastard. No. I learnt my lesson last time; I'm not letting you screw me over again."

They glared at each other across the cigarette-scarred table. Eventually, Brain left. Curt didn't show him out. He didn't think he could trust his legs to move without collapsing.

_**I've had my share; I'll help you with the pain**_

"So," Kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow night then?" Mandy nodded, happy grin plastered immovably across her face. His lips tasted of sugar and poppies.

_**You're not alone**_

He didn't bother to answer the knock at the door. He really should just give Mandy a key. She practically lived there anyway. There was a soft click and footsteps in the hallway. Brian must have left it open. Curt stared at his bedroom doorway, expecting Mandy's dim outline. It did not appear. The figure was taller than Mandy, and curiously silent. They came towards him, lying on his beaten up mattress on the floor. Though he couldn't see who it was, he was too tired to be frightened. They crouched down and seated themselves next to him. Through the shadows, he saw a painfully familiar smile. He felt slender finger reach down through the darkness and stroke his cheek, tenderly pushing the hair from his face. They bent closer and soft lips brushed his forehead. When they pressed gently against his mouth, his eyes slid closed and he let a warm tongue slip quickly between his cold lips. He was too tired to fight anymore. A whispered moan escaped him.

"Jack…"

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A/N: ah, how I love to torment you. I'm dreadfully sorry that this is up later than I promised. I am afraid I underestimated the time it would take me to type up eight pages! -dies- anyway, you know how I welcome reviews! –hints- 


	5. Tumbling Down part 1

**Tumbling Down – Part 1**

Disclaimer: I do not own the song lyrics used in this or any other chapter. The characters are also the property of persons other than myself.

A/N: Prepare yourselves for hideous fluffiness and a bombardment of clichés. Okay? This was not an officially planned chapter I just felt inspired and I really like this song so…

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Oh, smother the kiss

**Or be drowned in blissful confusion**

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I swear that I could go on forever again

It was gone. All the pain, that had made Brian so desperate to escape, was gone. It had vanished the moment he set eyes upon Curt's face again.

_**Please let me know that my one bad day will end**_

He lay in a vegetative state, a warm body stretched out beside him, and watched the hands of the clock twitching around. A convenient patch of moonlight had illuminated them for him. Midnight seemed to crawl grudgingly closer, unwilling to remove him from the day he never thought he'd want to forget.

_**I will go down as your lover, your friend**_

He lay silently awake at Curt's side, thinking – probably more than was good for him. He knew he would never be the prize that Brian was, that Curt would never cherish him the way he did Brian. It didn't matter. It was all worth this one night when Curt had lost himself in his embrace.

_**Give me your lips and with one kiss we begin**_

But how could he make Curt forgive him? Maybe they could start all over again, as though nothing had ever happened between them at all? No. That wouldn't work. There were times, nights mainly, that Brian would not forget for anything in the World…

_**Are you afraid of being alone? 'Cause I am**_

He tightened his grip on Jack's shoulders a little. The Sun would rise and he knew he would miss the night's dream. He didn't want to think about what the World would ask of him tomorrow.

_**Are you afraid of leaving tonight?**_

He felt Curt's fingers press more desperately into his skin and he shifted a little closer. It's quite alright, my dear boy. I'm not going anywhere tonight.

_**I'll keep my eyes patiently focused on you**_

He would wait. He would force himself to wait. Already a part of his brain was craving another human body. But that would never win him Curt back. The enticing thoughts of instant gratification prodded him sharply as he wandered through the dark city.

_**Where are you now? I can hear footsteps. I'm dreaming**_

When Jack had finally fallen asleep, Curt felt the tears start to fall. Of course, he was grateful to Jack for not leaving him alone, for indulging his self-pity, but…oh God, he needed him. It made him sick to admit it to himself but he needed Brian. Sure, he was a git and he was insensitive and egotistical but… Jesus, Curt thought to himself, have I got it bad!

_**Keep me from waking to believe this**_

His last thoughts, as he drifted off, were for Curt. He didn't need Curt's body; there were hundreds of people in London who were just as willing to sleep with Jack Fairy. He didn't need his mind or indeed his soul, whatever the Hell that really meant. He was only there because Curt had needed him to be. No more, no less. Jack Fairy did not need Curt Wild.

_**Are you afraid of being alone?**_

The night streets, punctuated by music, laughter, drunken singing, were not as comforting as they had once been. He didn't want to be there but he had nowhere else to go.

_**I'm lost without you**_

A draft crept through the flat, making the hairs stand up on Curt's bare skin. Cold again. Where are you Brian?

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A/N: I've got the next chapter all planned out so it shouldn't be too long before it's up. Read and review, kind people! Until next time… 


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